


Love Letters

by hayj



Series: The Love Letter's of Broken People [5]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 19:43:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4848065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayj/pseuds/hayj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Seduce me. Write letters to me. Ravish me with your words.” Anne Boleyn, The Tudors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Letters

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt # 70 Love Letters

Charlie scoffed the first time she found a note tucked into the outer pocket of her pack, reminding her to take the North pass instead of the South on the way back into town. Rolling her eyes, she balled it up in her hand, tossing it into her pack.

 

Upon her return, she gave him the side eye when he asked if she had any trouble on her way in.

 

Neither mentioned the note.

 

It begins to happen more and more often and the notes aren’t always in the outside pocket.

 

She’s found them anywhere from her ratty, dog-eared, paperback, to her clean socks.

 

Gradually, she begins to look forward to them, catching herself wondering about where the next one will be located, because they’ve suddenly begun to appear on new items.

 

First, was a bar of handmade goat milk and rose soap, followed by two, new to her paperbacks. The most recent was attached to a sky-blue, peasant blouse. Seeking him out with those same colored eyes, she didn’t see or hear Miles walk up behind her, only just managing to curl the note up in her hand before he gets a good glimpse at the handwriting.

 

“Secret admirer?” Miles asks, noticing the blush on her cheeks.

 

“Shut up,” she retorts, pushing him away. Once he’s left her alone, she once again seeks out Bass with her eyes, holding the shirt up to her nose, before offering him a shy smile.

 

As fate would have it, the next scouting trip she’s sent on, Miles orders her to take Bass along with her. The trip will take her on the outskirts of the Wastelands and there's still many a war clan that hasn’t sided with Texas or California against the patriots.

 

The job goes off with nary a hitch and it’s on their way home that the inevitable happens and he takes her to his bedroll after two long years of dancing around each other and everyone else's feelings.

 

Charlie feels like she’s come home.

 

And when things seem too good to be true in her world, they usually are.

 

Instead of taking the North pass into town, they take the South.

 

She screams his name when he takes the bullet meant for her.

 

He’s able to stay conscious long enough to help her get him on a horse backwards, which he bitches about the entire time until he realizes she’ll be able to hold onto him when he passes out from the pain and blood loss.

 

Lashing them both to the horse, Charlie rides balls to the wall, tearing down the middle of camp not stopping till she’s in front of the med tent. Gene emerges, slicing ropes with the knife she hands him as Miles, Connor, and Scanlon appear from nowhere.

 

While Connor and Scanlon carry Bass’ body between them, following Gene into his surgery, Miles pulls a stunned Charlie from the back of the horse, engulfing her in his arms.

 

She’s a permanent fixture next to his cot after he comes out of surgery.

 

Gene’s unwilling to say if he’ll live and Charlie’s unwilling to let him die.

 

She hears the whispers behind her back and knows that Miles has ordered her mother to stay away, even though he has no fucking clue himself about what's going on.

 

He’s keeping her company when she dumps out her pack at the end of Bass’ cot and begins to neatly fold her various clothes and sundries, repacking everything but a multitude of wadded up balls of paper.

 

“What’s all this?” Miles asks, smoothing the paper flat as he suddenly recognizes the writing.

 

“Love letters,” Charlie answers, her voice hoarse and strained from unshed tears and choked back screams.

 

“Charlie,” Miles scoffs. “Theses are notes telling you to, ‘Pull your hair back. Enjoy your bath. Take an aspirin, it’ll help with the cramps?’” He reads in confusion adding the papers to her growing pile.

 

“They’re love letters,” she says again, pulling out a pencil that’s seen better days, regardless of how well the graphite still writes. Turning one of the battered pieces of papers over, she begins to print words in her block letters that he’s come to know so well. Cursive is a thing of history to those born just before and after the blackout.

 

Finished, she tucks the note into Bass’ hand closest to her. Placing everything back into her pack, she leans her elbows on the cot next to Bass’ waist and bows her head.

 

Miles contemplates taking the note to see what it says, but likes to think he hasn’t reached that level of dickishness yet. He’s suspected that there was something between the two, but never knew for sure one way or the other.

 

There are so many things that make it a bad idea, starting with their age difference and ending with their family history.

 

But, Miles knows all about how the heart wants what the heart wants and taking one last look at the pair quietly leaves the tent, stopping to speak to Connor who's taken up vigil just outside.

 

When Bass comes to, the first thing he sees is Charlie's head laying awkwardly next to him in sleep.

 

Reaching out for her, he feels the paper in his hand.

 

Willing his eyes to focus, he scans the words with a smile, her name on his lips.

 


End file.
